


Chocolate Love

by bakers_impala221



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Baking, Canon-universe, Cas being an amazing angel boyfriend, Cas is not a good chef, Cookies, Dean loves him so much though, Fluff, Just a lotta love, Love, M/M, Newly established relationship, No angst in sight, a lot of mess, canon-divergent, chocolate chip cookies, it's too late for me to be writing tags, like a lot, or at least trying, points for effort right?, prompt, the morning after, they're in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:34:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23928466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bakers_impala221/pseuds/bakers_impala221
Summary: Mollie McClanahan @mo_mac“Don’t ever let a recipe tell you how many chocolate chips to put in. You measure that shit with your heart.”Dean wakes up to find Cas baking cookies.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 17
Kudos: 47





	Chocolate Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AvengingDetective](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvengingDetective/gifts).



> Dedicated to muh friend, Amelie, who replied to my (Instagram) story with the base of this.  
> This is for you Xx

It was the coldness and emptiness on the other side of the bed that first startled Dean from comfortable sleep. Where there should have - _finally_ \- been the soothing presence of Cas’ placid form, there were just the crumpled bedsheets folded over each other in mock-tidiness, as though he’d been careful not to disturb Dean’s peaceful sleep as he left.

Dean sat up, eyes instantly open and searching the room for the other man. He could feel the sinking feeling of dread settle in his stomach as jumped off of the bed, grabbing the nearest t-shirt abandoned on the floor, and heading out into the hallway.

 _The guy doesn’t eat_ , Dean reasoned, making his way for the library rather than the kitchen; his instinctual first start to the day. When he found it empty though, a small lump of anxiety rose to his throat and lodged itself there.

He ignored the light hammer tapping against his chest from the inside, turning back into the hall to continue his search. When he spotted Sam’s slumping form clomp along the hallway, hands clutching a warm mug of coffee and a trail of - _what was that? Flour? Really, Sam?_ \- forming in his wake, Dean rushed to catch up to him.

‘Hey,’ he said.

Sam turned his head slightly towards him, giving him an acknowledging nod as he took a sip from the mug.

‘Uh, you seen Cas?’ he asked, glancing around the bunker.

Sam smiled at Dean’s frown. He held the cup to his face, hiding his amusement. ‘Yeah, he’s, uh… in there,’ he said, nodding towards the kitchen.

Dean gave him a nod of thanks before half-jogging quietly down the hall.

When he got to the kitchen entrance, he ducked his head in, spying on the figure standing by the bench. He frowned for a moment, sleepy mind still slow to catch up, when he suddenly registered the flour littering the floor. His eyes scanned the bench, eyeing the cooking utensils and bowls scattered along it, all of it covered in an absurd amount of flour. His mind caught up with him, and his lips pulled apart into a toothy grin as he crossed the floor and wrapped his arms around the flour-dusted trenchcoat.

‘Need any help with that?’ he asked, his tone light and teasing.

Cas gave him a look that Dean figured was half-chagrin, half-relief. His shoulders slumped grumpily, as he mumbled.

‘It was supposed to be a surprise.’

‘Nah,’ Dean waved his hand as if blowing away the disappointment, he let his shoulders relax and his face fall into an easy smile. ‘Don’t worry about it.’

He could feel is eyes turn soft, carefree as he held the other man’s gaze. ‘It’s the thought that counts.’

Cas turned in his arms, a small, embarrassed smile on his lips. So Dean leaned in; kissed it away.

'Consider me surprised,' Dean whispered again his lips.

When he pulled back, Cas looked dazed with contentment-- his hair still ruffled and unkempt from the night. Dean reached up to ruffle it as he took a step back to assess the scene.

He hummed thoughtfully, then moved forwards, sidestepping Cas as he reached the counter. He picked up an empty packet and eyed it, giving Cas a questioning look when he noticed the chocolate chips emptied out fully into a separate bowl.

Cas gave a small, shy shrug. ‘I didn’t know how many to use. Sam said to just go with whatever felt right. But nothing felt right.’

‘Well,’ Dean said, taking a step back towards his partner, grinning. ‘I hate to say it, but I think Sam’s right on this one.’

He glanced back to the bowl of chocolate, and shrugged. ‘Can’t let any recipe tell you how many chocolate chips to put in... You measure that shit with your heart,’ he raised a fisted hand to his chest emphatically.

Seeming to have regained his composure, Cas tugged Dean’s hand away playfully, stepping into his personal space and drawing him in for another kiss. He didn’t say anything; he didn’t have to.

When he drew back, Cas’ attention refocused intensely on the benchtop.

‘Now, you either leave, or you stay and help,’ he said, nodding seriously, his voice sombre.

Dean smiled, placed his hand on his boyfriend’s shoulder, turning to meet his gaze.

‘How could I ever leave you?’ he teased lightly, stepping forwards to stand beside him, preparing to wage war on a crisis of flour.

Two hours, and two batches of failed cookies later, Cas and Dean sat at the bunker’s kitchen table, the room engulfed in cookies, some perfect, some burnt. As they munched into them, Dean looked around, then back at his boyfriend, and smiled.

They’d had a lot of bad in their lives; lot of bloodshed and pain- but there were some good moments too, he had to remind himself. And just like with baking cookies, sometimes you’ve gotta fail to succeed; lose some to win some. But this, he thought as he bit into a biscuit full of heart-shaped chocolate chips, this is one of the good moments. Better than the nights; better than sex-- this was the best thing that Dean could ever ask for.

With startlingly clarity, Dean realised that this... covered in flour and admittedly more cookie dough than he could have avoided, watching an angel eat flavourless biscuits made just to make him happy. Dean realised that this -all of this- must be what it felt like to be content.

**Author's Note:**

> I've never written Destiel fluff before. So I apologise for the kinda weird and overly cheesey ending. We can just tell ourselves that Dean is holding back right now. Once the truth is out, he becomes the overly loving boyfriend that he is in this, right?  
> Right.  
> I'm always right.
> 
> Leave comments if you so desire. I will lap. them. up.


End file.
